


i try to master the art

by plingo_kat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: “Absolutely not,” Stephen says, staring at the scraps of fabric neatly folded up in the otherwise empty dresser drawer.The drawer rattles ominously.





	i try to master the art

“Absolutely not,” Stephen says, staring at the scraps of fabric neatly folded up in the otherwise empty dresser drawer.

The drawer rattles ominously.

“No,” Stephen repeats. He crosses his arms and glares into the mirror, at his own reflection’s narrowed eyes. Behind him the Cloak rustles like it’s laughing.

The drawer rolls closed slowly, sulking. Stephen continues to stare until he hears the faint thump of the front drawer meeting the dresser’s solid face.

When he opens the drawer again, the same lingerie is present, this time in black.

He slams it shut with an inarticulate growl of frustration. The Cloak detaches from his shoulders and shakes in his peripheral vision, even going so far as to give him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“A suit,” Stephen tells the dresser. Despite his best efforts a note of pleading despair creeps into his voice. “I want a suit.”

The drawer slams shut, then opens. This time the lingerie is even skimpier, in shades of bold red.

Stephen presses a palm to his forehead. _Why._

*

Later Stephen gasps as Tony pulls him down by his tie for a kiss, crowding him back against the wall until he’s slouched along it, hips canted to press along Tony’s tense thigh.

“Damn,” Tony murmurs into the corner of his mouth, and the rasp of their beards sparks down Stephen’s spine. “You’re kind of sensitive, huh?”

“It’s been a while.” Stephen’s voice comes out breathless but sufficiently dry; at this point it’s all he can hope for. “Don’t get a swelled head.”

“I’m not even going to take that line.” Tony nips at his lower lip, just a glance of teeth. “Too easy.”

“I don’t know,” Stephen says, and cards shaking fingers through Tony’s hair. It’s soft even with the shaping wax. “So far you’re all talk, Stark. You may need to take the easy lines.”

He watches the narrowing of Tony’s eyes, the faint crinkle that follows before Tony presses their mouths together again. This time he makes it slow and hot, pushing into Stephen’s mouth and then pulling back, a tease. Stephen gives as good as he gets, curls his hand along the back of Tony’s neck and pulls them together. Bites down and chuckles as Tony’s hips jump.

“Cheater.” Tony doesn’t look too upset, pink tongue emerging to rub at the tender spot on his lip. Stephen breathes in deeply and thumbs at the hinge of Tony’s jaw, caressing from the point of the masseter up along the ramus to the thin skin behind his ear.

“You bit first.”

“Still cheating,” Tony says softly. This time when he leans in he brushes his mouth over Stephen’s cheek, under his eye, noses at his ear. The hot puff of his breath rolls through Stephen in a wave. “Damn. Sensitive.”

“Shut up,” Stephen suggests, and slides his free hand over Tony’s broad shoulders down to his waist, grasps the silky fabric and pulls it out of its neat tuck at Tony’s belt.

“Ooh, Mr. Strange,” Tony murmurs. He shakes with silent laughter. It must be some sort of reference Stephen doesn’t understand.

“I’m feeling less appreciated by the second,” Stephen lies. He dips his fingers underneath Tony’s shirt to feel his warm smooth skin, the way it shifts with the flex of his thoracolubar fascia. This time Tony is the one who shivers, undoubtedly because Stephen’s hands are always freezing.

“Can’t have that,” Tony says, and kisses his ear. Stephen flinches away and Tony uses the opportunity to disentangle them.

“Don’t,” Stephen says.

“Sooo sensitive,” Tony says, grinning. Stephen sighs.

“I really don’t know why I find you attractive.”

“Excuse you, I am a delight.” Tony smooths down his hair. “And so is my bedroom. Ah, you know. If you’re interested.”

Stephen looks down at himself, his crooked tie and rumpled clothes. His _clothes_. Shit.

The pause stretches out a little too long.

“Or not? I mean, it’s the first date, I’m sure you’re not that kind of girl, am I right? I can respect that.”

Stephen looks up, an excuse on his lips, but the way Tony averts his eyes, the tightness at the corners of his mouth, changes his mind. “No, it’s not -- it’s not that.”

A pause. “Then what is it?”

Stephen blows out a breath. “Don’t laugh.”

“Promise.” Tony sidles closer.

“My wardrobe refused to provide me with a suit unless I also wore the other... accessories it gave me.”

“That’s a new one.” Tony blinks. Gives Stephen a very obvious once-over. “I don’t see anything worth laughing at, though. Your cufflinks are nice, so’s the watch. Very mystical. Very you.”

“They’re not currently visible.”

“Magically concealed?” Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Or, or. Oh, please tell me you have piercings. I’ve been a good boy.”

“No.” Stephen glares.

“Then I honestly have no idea what you could be talking about.”

Stephen rubs the insides of his wrists along the fabric of his trousers. Undoes his belt buckle, the easiest piece of clothing for his shaking fingers to manipulate. Tony watches with wide eyes, obviously restraining himself from making a snarky comment. He doesn’t refrain from letting out a soft noise at the glimpse of red lace revealed as Stephen pushes his waistband down.

“Oh,” he sighs. “Stephen, I would never laugh at that.”

“Yes, well.” Stephen tugs his pants back into place. “It’s a bit ridiculous.”

“I think,” Tony slides a warm hand low over Stephen’s belly, palm splayed possessively over his shirt, “that it is _mindblowingly_ hot.”

“What--” Stephen attempts to step away but Tony crowds him up against the wall again, thigh to thigh, hand still wedged between them.

“You have to let me see,” Tony breathes. His pupils are dilated as he stares into Stephen’s eyes. “C’mon, Stephen.”

The idea that a glimpse of lace has Tony Stark aching for more is absurd, but Stephen isn’t immune to the press of his body, the sultry pleading of those warm brown eyes. He swallows and watches Tony watch the bob of his throat.

“All right.”

Tony kisses him, hard, for a brief moment before stepping back. He grasps Stephen’s wrist and tugs.

The bedroom really is impressive, easily four times the size of the Sanctum accommodations, sleekly modern but still with an air of being comfortably lived in. Tony waves at a doorway with a mumbled “bathroom” but otherwise doesn’t try to give Stephen a tour, just pulls him toward the bed, then on top of him as he falls backwards onto it.

“Oof.” Stephen props himself up on his elbows. “Graceful.”

“I never said I wasn’t a disaster,” Tony comments airily. He hooks a knee around Stephen’s thigh, tangling them ankle to ankle. Stephen uses his other leg to brace against the floor.

“You realize that we’re about to slide off the bed.”

“Details.” Nimble fingers undo Stephen’s tie, then the top few buttons of his shirt. There’s no earthly way for him to see what Tony is doing so he watches Tony’s face instead, the faint furrow of his brow, the wet shine just visible on the inside of his lower lip. He sees the moment Tony exposes enough of his chest to uncover the sheer lace top underneath his dress shirt; Tony’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack.

“That’s...”

Stephen clears his throat. “Not my color?”

“Absolutely your color,” Tony promises, eyes laser-locked on the peek of red. He fumbles the next button. “I feel like Christmas has come early, honestly.”

“Hm. Flattering.”

“Hey.” Tony finally tears his gaze away to meet Stephen’s eyes. “If you’re not having fun, let me know, okay? I may be a jerk, but I’m not _that_ much of an asshole.”

“No, no.” Stephen untenses his abdominal and shoulder muscles, settling deeper into the V of Tony’s thighs. “I’m enjoying this. I’m just a bit... out of practice.”

“Well, we can go at your pace.”

“You’re fine. But I’d prefer being fully on the bed.”

Tony waggles his eyebrows outrageously, but let’s go easily enough when Stephen leans back. Stephen takes the time to strip off, then roll up his belt.

“Mind if I lose the pants?”

“Not if you also lose the shirt.”

“A man after my own heart.” Tony winks but Stephen isn’t paying attention. All Tony is wearing underneath his slacks is a sleek black thong, his cock already half hard and straining against the material. Stephen inhales sharply.

“Like it?” Tony poses with a hand on his hip, blunt engineer’s fingers splayed over the thin string framing the sharp cut of his illiac’s crest leading down toward his groin. Stephen barely holds back a groan.

“Very much,” he says, and his voice comes out low and rough. Tony flashes him a grin and then strips off his dress shirt after only undoing half the buttons. Stephen laughs. “Impatient?”

“Incredibly,” Tony confirms. He opens and closes his fists in grabby motions at Stephen. “C’mere, I want to see.”

Stephen’s hands hover over his shirt, but in the end he lowers them and steps closer. If Tony wants to undress him, he won’t object.

“Oh,” Tony sighs as he bares Stephen’s torso. The roughness of his callouses snags at the thin material of the top, a skintight mesh of delicate red lace that barely reaches past his sternum. Stephen shivers as Tony lays his hand over his pectoral, a slow rub of his palm peaking his nipple to a hard point. Tony’s other hand sweeps aside the gaping collar of Stephen’s shirt until he shrugs it off his shoulders. “Beautiful.”

He really does think so, Stephen notes, given the flush rising along the tips of his ears and cheeks, the increased dilation of his pupils. It softens his own spine, makes him feel molten and graceful as he unzips his pants even as his fingers shake and shake. Without the belt they fall to the floor as soon as he lets go; he always was built like a stick.

This time Tony doesn’t speak, merely sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and _stares_. Stephen feels his gaze like the heat of the sun, radiating, sinking into his skin.

The underwear he’s wearing aren’t quite panties. If one were generous they could be called shorts, solid fabric at the waistband and sheer lace nearly everywhere else, soft satin along the front of the groin area to prevent itching. They end just under the curve of his ass and the join of his thighs and hips.

“God, c’mere.” Tony grasps his hips and leans back until Stephen clambers awkwardly onto the bed, knees on either side of Tony’s thighs. Tony gazes up at him with blatant awe. “Christ.”

“Not quite, but I appreciate the compliment.”

Tony barks out a startled laugh. “Hey, doc, I thought the Order of Merlin wasn’t allowed to have a sense of humor.”

“It’s up to individual discretion.” Stephen settles onto Tony’s thighs, watching his face for any signs of discomfort; he’s not a small man. Tony merely licks his lips and stares back. “Well?”

“Thought I’d let you drive.” Tony runs his hand up Stephen’s side, over his ribs to rest between his scapulae. “I mean, you’re on top.”

“You just want to watch.” Stephen’s guess hits its mark; Tony shrugs unrepentantly.

“If you could see how you looked, you would too.”

“The wardrobe had a mirror.”

“Okay, so you’re not as much of a narcissist as me. Not really a surprise. C’mon, Stephen, I took you for a guy who liked control. Tell me what you want.”

Thing is, Tony isn’t wrong. Stephen _does_ like to be in control, even more after the accident. He wriggles a little in Tony’s lap, nudging the thong until the red tip of Tony’s cock peeks out of it.

“Damn.” Tony thumps his head back against the bed. “Guess you like to watch too, huh?”

Stephen hums, trailing his palm over the hot shape of Tony’s cock still mostly hidden by his thong, massaging. Tony hisses.

“Frottage? I’m down for frottage, I bet that would look really hot and it’d feel good too, Stephen, you tease--”

Stephen leans down to kiss him and Tony curls his fingers under the swooped back of his lace top, nails scratching at the skin there. They kiss slowly, luxuriously, Stephen keeping their torsos apart so the only place they touch is their thighs and their mouths and Tony’s hand hooked in his lingerie. Until Tony slides his other hand between them.

Stephen bites at Tony’s lip again but this time Tony just arches up and moans, unashamed, hand moving to curl around the hard line of Stephen’s own cock before tugging at the waistband of his underwear. And Stephen -- allows it, allows Tony to pull until the elastic strains against his thighs, stretched to the limit, digging into his flesh. A warm hand wraps around him, presses him against another line of heat.

When Stephen break the kiss with a gasp and looks down, he has to moan. Tony shoved his thong aside so his cock pokes out the side with his balls pushed out high and tight beneath, and he has both himself and Stephen grasped in his fist. His fingers are just long enough to hold them together.

“Gonna need two hands,” he pants, and gives Stephen a sultry look from beneath lowered lashes. It looks particularly obscene with how wet and red his mouth is, the tousled mess of his hair. “Want to help me out?”

“I have very little grip strength.”

“It’ll be enough,” Tony promises. He lets go and brings his hand up to his face, licks his palm. Makes a show of it. The pink of his tongue really shouldn’t be as mesmerizing as it is. “Come on, Stephen.”

Stephen presents his own hand. Tony takes his time getting it wet -- and doesn’t Tony own lube, he wonders distantly -- but then Tony sucks two of Stephen’s fingers into his _mouth_ so he has much more important things to think about, like the wet O of Tony’s lips pursed along his knuckles, the soft velvet of his tongue and the way his lashes flutter as Stephen thrusts his fingers in and out, rubs them against the smooth give of Tony’s cheek. He pulls his hand free with reluctance and holds his palm out.

“Lick.”

“Yeah,” Tony says faintly, and does so. He licks his own palm again as well, and then their fingers tangle together in a cage around their cocks.

Stephen wasn’t lying about his grip strength. He hands also aren’t the steadiest, so their rhythm is a little stilted, a little abrupt. It doesn’t matter; Tony rolls his hips so they barely have to move their hands at all, Tony’s cock slipping along Stephen’s in a gritty drag that’s just on the right side of too much. Stephen kneels above him and fights to keep himself upright even as it feels like his spine is melting, cervical vertebrae all dissolving into the heat visible in Tony’s eyes. Tony’s wrist pushes the lace of his top into his sweaty skin in counterpoint to the dull pressure of the backs of his nails, his knuckles, fist pressed into Stephen’s back.

His orgasm comes easy, coaxed out of him with the slides of Tony’s cock against his own and the rock of Tony’s thighs along his ass. Tony aims so he splashes over his own stomach and groin, soaking the underwear still stretched around his legs.

“Fuck,” Tony grits out. He lets Stephen go and grips himself more firmly, jerks himself fast and hard. He comes shuddering when Stephen slides his wrist over the wet, sensitive head of his cock. A jerk of his arm snaps one of the thin shoulder straps of Stephen’s top. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Stephen uses his clean hand to cup Tony’s face, the both of them damp with sweat. “I’m sure the wardrobe has more.”

Tony breathes harshly for a moment, eyes closed, before he turns his head into Stephen’s palm. Kisses it and smiles.

“So you’ll wear something like this again?”

Stephen presses his thumb into Tony’s chin. “Don’t count on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Was trawling through... I don't even remember, and came across the ironstrange prompts dreamwidth. Saw the prompt "Stephen asks the Sanctum’s sentient closet for help when he wants to look good for his first date with Tony, and it gives him lingerie."
> 
> The mentioned wardrobe/dresser: https://shop.consigningdesign.com/collections/dressers-chest-of-drawers/products/consett-antique-dresser-mirror
> 
> Stephen's lace bottom: https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1GU5tX6vuK1Rjy0Faq6x2aVXa9/Hot-Sale-Male-Underwear-Boxers-Lace-Sexy-Mens-Lingerie-Boxer-Comfortable-Solid-Underpants-Ropa-Interior-Hombre.jpg_640x640.jpg
> 
> Stephen's lace top (imagine without the collar, shorter, lacy, and red): http://www.pipesol.co.uk/images/cate_437/640/Patchwork-2Pcs-MSemis-Sexy-Mens-Lingerie-Set-Mesh-Sleeveless-Top-TShirt-with-Bulge-Pouch-Boxer-Underwear-Panties-Men-Gay-Roleplay-Costume-Short-S0575aB-pwu0.jpg
> 
> "Ooh, Mr. Strange" is a Kate Beaton reference: http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=120


End file.
